


SASO shibakimi fills

by reginagalaxia



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Varying ratings, a lot of swearing probably, it also figures that the longest fill is just porn, these two are in love and it's kinda ridiculous how much, why are they so bad with words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginagalaxia/pseuds/reginagalaxia
Summary: a lovely place to dump all of my shibakimi fills because i have A Lot of emotions about them.





	1. a flower by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: reluctant soulmates

Kimishita swats the pencil out of Ooshiba’s hand for the hundredth time that study session and ignores Ooshiba’s petulant pout. He tells himself that he’s angry because Ooshiba is just so spectacularly bad at math, but realistically speaking, it’s easier to use Ooshiba as a scapegoat for his own absentmindedness than to address the reason for it. At midnight, a scant two hours away, it’ll be Ooshiba’s birthday, and the day that a very particular mark will form somewhere on his body. It’s the mark that will match him to his future soulmate, and it’s going to preoccupy him like it did Kimishita for the weeks following his own birthday. It’s going to make Ooshiba more insufferable than usual, and Kimishita figures it’s okay to be irritated about it ahead of time. 

“Kimishita, I hate math,” Ooshiba whines, like it’s something Kimishita isn’t already painfully aware of.

“You still have to do it,” Kimishita replies. He stares down at his own nearly blank homework assignment. Ooshiba notices his hypocrisy and scowls.

“You haven’t done anything! Don’t tell me what to do if  _ you _ can’t do it, jerk!”

“Unlike you, I  _ know _ how to do this. I just don’t want to!”

“I hate you,” Ooshiba finishes while doodling a cactus on his notes.

“I hate tutoring your dumb ass more.”

“Then  _ why _ ?”

“You can’t play soccer if you’re too stupid to understand fractions!”

“I can still play soccer!”

“Coach won’t  _ let _ you play,” Kimishita says, throwing an eraser at Ooshiba’s head. Ooshiba dodges and grins triumphantly, only to be smacked upside the head.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“I didn’t even hit you hard!”

“You messed up my hair,” Ooshiba mutters, smoothing down what he perceives to be a hairstyle. Kimishita scoffs, smiling despite his frustration.

“I didn’t know it was possible to mess up a bird’s nest, but I learn something new every day,” Kimishita says, finally taking the time to at least pretend that he’s solving a problem. This seems to satisfy Ooshiba, who returns to his own notes.

Aside from the occasional jostle and completely unnecessary punch in the arm, they do their work quietly until an alarm sounds. Ooshiba’s phone reads 0:00 and they stare at each other, wide-eyed. For some reason, Kimishita’s own heart is racing when Ooshiba clambers to his feet in the least graceful way possible and starts checking down the length of his arms. There’s nothing but an expanse of very smooth, very toned arm, as far as Kimishita can see, so his heart rate only goes higher. They’re not even really friends, so he doesn’t know why he’s so excited for Ooshiba to find his mark.

“KIMISHITA, HELP ME FIND IT,” Ooshiba near yells, stripping off his shirt like he’s on fire, and Kimishita purses his lips.

“Stop wiggling around, you idiot and let me look if you want help,” he says evenly and grabs Ooshiba’s shoulders to turn him 180 degrees. He feels a little sick, if he’s to be completely honest, especially because Ooshiba’s back is as smooth and unmarked as ever.

“I should take my pants off,” Ooshiba states, and is halfway out of his jeans before Kimishita has the opportunity to tell him that he should stop stripping in case his sister happens to come by. Ooshiba is checking his legs, slightly crazed, though he will likely deny being anything less than calm and collected the next morning at school, and Kimishita is-

Kimishita clears his throat. “Your hip.”

“What about it?”

“You are so dumb. Look at it,” Kimishita croaks, and if possible, he feels more ill than before. The shape and location of the mark are familiar, too familiar, and he reflexively puts a hand on his own hip. Ooshiba looks down at his hipbone and looks back up at Kimishita, eyes wide with excitement. His grin falters.

“You look like shit,” he tells Kimishita.

“Thanks,” Kimishita replies, too overwhelmed to even come up with a clever comeback. 

“You okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Your dumb ass is the one with a flower on his hip.”

“It’s a nice flower! You’re just jealous! I have no fuckin’ idea what flower it is, but I bet it’s nicer than-" Ooshiba starts, putting his fists on his hips, proud of something he had no control over.

“It’s a zinnia,” Kimishita interrupts and starts to undo his belt. Ooshiba eyes him a little strangely, but apparently, Kimishita taking off his pants without any preamble isn’t enough to deter Ooshiba at all.

“You’re such a nerd. I can’t believe you even know flow-” he stops dead, jaw falling slack. “We have matching flowers? That’s so stupid.”

Kimishita stares at him, blinking.

“Uh, yeah. We do,” Kimishita says quietly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s ten seconds of awkward silence before realization dawns on Ooshiba’s face.

“NO,” he says, then proceeds to inspect Kimishita’s very detailed red zinnia.

“Kiichi-”

“No, it’s different, see-”

“It’s the same,” Kimishita insists.

“But if our marks match, then we’re supposed to be soulmates. And you’re annoying?” Ooshiba says the last part of the sentence like he’s not even sure of what he’s saying, but he knows he has to say something.

“It’s not like I’m happy about it! My soulmate sucks at math and is a complete bonehead! I didn’t decide this!”

“You don’t get to hate this first! I hate it more, okay?”

“You can’t possibly hate it more! You’ve been driving me insane since we were kids, and now I’m stuck with you  _ forever, _ ” Kimishita growls and reaches for the collar of a shirt that Ooshiba is no longer wearing, making the grab more of an awkward caress of his chest. The touch diffuses the situation and they’re both left staring at each other, confused and unsure of where to go with this.

“Want me to put a shirt on?” Ooshiba suggests. His eyes are bright and crinkling from his shit-eating grin, and Kimishita finally identifies that strange fluttering in his belly. He wants to punch Ooshiba. With his mouth, maybe, but also with his fist. He doesn’t really know at this point, but he’s got a lifetime to figure it out.


	2. first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: first kiss

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. 

Kimishita isn’t sure if there is really a proper way for a first kiss to happen, but if there is...this is not it. At all. 

 

_ earlier that day _

Kimishita has been thinking about what it would be like to kiss someone. With all the murmured talk in the halls about who kissed who and who is dating who, it is impossible to not think about it. He sits in class, chin in his hand, looking around at his classmates, wondering if it could be any of them. The girls are pretty, and smart, and nice, but he doesn’t really feel  _ excited  _ at the thought of kissing any of them. Come to think of it, nobody really gets his pulse racing enough for him to really  _ want _ to pursue that elusive first kiss.

It’s a bother, he decides. Soccer is more important.  _ Anything _  is more important than stupid first kisses.

His attention is quickly diverted from all adolescent thoughts when something hits his cheek and rolls away. Kimishita growls, picking the note up from the floor. He turns to the corner of the room where Ooshiba is snickering, feet crossed on the desk in front of him. 

“Put your damn feet down, idiot,” he says, but Ooshiba just rocks back and forth on his chair’s back legs. Kimishita marvels at how quickly Ooshiba can get his blood pressure up just by existing- it has to be some sort of gift. 

“Teacher’s not here yet,” Ooshiba replies, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Kimishita gives Ooshiba the blankest look he can muster. It’s a shame Ooshiba is good at soccer, otherwise Kimishita would have killed him a long time ago. Probably back in middle school, a good ten minutes into them knowing each other. 

Their teacher arrives before Kimishita has the opportunity to fling anything at the bane of his existence, and class begins. 

 

At practice that afternoon, Kimishita feels a little out of sorts. There’s just something making him feel off-balance, and that, in turn, makes him more irritated with everything and everyone. Ooshiba, as per usual, is being insufferable, which does not help Kimishita’s bad mood in the slightest. 

Between exercises, the team is sprawled out on the ground, trying to recover enough energy to move on. Kimishita is sitting cross-legged next to Ooshiba, who is lying on his back, expending all his energy on whining about how exhausted he is. Kimishita smacks Ooshiba’s thigh with the back of his hand to shut him up, but it has the opposite effect. Ooshiba sits bolt upright and shoves Kimishita.

“Don’t smack me!” he protests, leaning into Kimishita’s personal space. Kimishita does the same, and they start bickering, forehead to forehead. This is pretty par for the course in their friendship, and though it’s strange if they don’t get into at least one ridiculous shouting match a day, Ooshiba’s proximity feels <i>different</i> today. His eyes are too blue, and Kimishita doesn’t remember him always smelling this good, even after all the running they’ve done. Kimishita’s heart is racing, and he finds himself not caring at all that Ooshiba is using his thigh to support himself. He starts wondering what it would be like to kiss Ooshiba, and then realizes that he’s definitely had this thought before. Kimishita just hadn’t realized that’s what it was.

“Kiichi?” Bickering all but forgotten in this weird moment, Kimishita closes his eyes when Ooshiba’s lips meet his a bit clumsily.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

Kimishita isn’t sure if there is really a proper way for a first kiss to happen, but if there is...this is not it. At all.

He finds he doesn’t really care, as he and Ooshiba really haven’t ever had a  _ proper  _ sort of relationship. When Kimishita pulls away, breathless, the team is clapping and yelling “Finally!” He looks up at Ooshiba, who is bright red, looking very bashful and very adorable, and smiles.

Yeah, his first kiss was pretty alright, Kimishita thinks, and leans in for a second.

 


	3. denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: phone sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _very_ NSFW, my friends. featuring a commanding kimishita and liberal use of the word "fuck."

Considering their relationship in high school, Ooshiba couldn’t have ever really imagined ending up here. Not here physically, in this nice but impersonal hotel room, on a too-big bed that feels empty despite Ooshiba’s ample limbs filling it up, but  _ here _ in the way that Ooshiba’s heart isn’t. It, like his brain, is far away, in another hotel room, sharing a bed with someone else. Anyway, Ooshiba isn’t much of a poet, but he (begrudgingly) admits to himself that he misses Kimishita. He misses him a lot, and it’s infuriating.

“Call me first, dammit,” he hisses at his phone. He and Kimishita have been dating for three years, and Ooshiba still doesn’t want to call Kimishita more often than Kimishita calls him. He doesn’t want to seem needy, but he is, goddamnit! Why can’t Kimishita just fucking call him, he misses his stupid voice?!

The stupid phone rings.

“Did you fucking forget about me?”

“I literally just got off the fucking plane. I didn’t even wait thirty seconds to call your dumb ass,” Kimishita replies, but his voice sounds soft and affectionate towards the end in a way that makes Ooshiba want to hit him.

“You’re a dick,” Ooshiba says.

“You’re a bigger dick, Kiichi. You win your game?”

“Scored twice!” 

 

They talk until Kimishita has to hang up and check in, but he calls back later in the evening.

“Miss me?” Kimishita jokes, and Ooshiba’s pause is enough to betray him. Kimishita’s chuckle is deep and painfully familiar.

“No.” Ooshiba sounds petulant, even by his own standards. 

“I don’t miss you either, jackass.”

Ooshiba harrumphs. “Good. How many days now?” 

“Eight, but who’s counting?”

“Mm.”

“Kiichi?”

“Yeah?” Ooshiba doesn’t know why his heart has suddenly clenched.

“Never mind. You in bed?”

“Yeah.”

“You lonely?”

“Fuck no,” Ooshiba lies.

“You’re the worst liar. I have to admit that it’s weird to actually have room in the bed when I sleep.”

“You’re the size of a toddler. We fit just fine!”

“We fit better when I’m on top of you,” Kimishita’s voice drops a little and Ooshiba’s stomach twists in anticipation. 

“Oh, is that what you want?” Ooshiba smirks, adjusting himself back against an absurd amount of hotel pillows. 

“I can tell by your voice that’s what  _ you _  want.”

Kimishita knows Ooshiba too well, and Ooshiba loves it. Even though it’s hard for him to relinquish control of anything in his life, he has never once regretted handing himself over to Kimishita.

“I could be persuaded,” Ooshiba says, like he’s not already bent over the bed in his mind.

Kimishita laughs throatily, then says, “You know I’m going to fuck you so you can’t walk the next day.”

“Big words from a little man,” taunts Ooshiba. He can already see Kimishita stripping slowly in his mind, crawling over him with that gleam in his eye. A shiver races up Ooshiba’s spine at the thought.

“Fuck you,” Kimishita replies fondly.

“That’s what I’m waiting for, shit.”

“I bet you brought lube with you.”

“Of course I fucking did.”

“Good.”

“Got something in mind?” Ooshiba purrs, starting to wriggle out of his shorts and underwear with his phone pinned between his ear and shoulder.

“I can hear you stripping already.”

“I bet you just got out of the shower. I bet you’re already naked, jackass,” Ooshiba says, trying to fight down a smile when Kimishita splutters. 

“I hate you.”

“Same.” 

“You can start by getting on your knees,” Kimishita says and Ooshiba, of course, complies. He shoves the blankets and some of the completely useless pillows—who needs this many pillows, anyway?—off the bed and fishes around in his duffel for the luridly pink bottle of lube. Kimishita is breathing softly on the other end, waiting patiently. There’s a definite urgency to Ooshiba’s motions now that Kimishita has begun stoking the fire that is constantly smouldering beneath Ooshiba’s skin. It’s a welcome distraction from his earlier thoughts. 

Ooshiba gets adjusted, on his knees like Kimishita asked, and tries to rein in his energy. 

“Okay, now what? I’m not promising that I’ll do it, but hypothetically-” Ooshiba starts, like he even has a choice. He loves it when Kimishita tells him what to do, but he loves it more when he gets to be extra stubborn about it.

“Are you gonna waste time being sassy, or are you gonna get some lube on those long, gorgeous fingers, huh?” 

It’s all Ooshiba can do to keep from shaking with excitement as the lube warms.

“What do you want now?” he asks, with no shortage of attitude. It’s no fun unless they’re both riled up equally.

“You know, I could keep this up all night, Kiichi.”

“You have a game first thing. Stop bullshitting and get on with it,” Ooshiba blurts. Kimishita’s breaths are even in a forced way, which lets Ooshiba know that this isn’t going to last very long; he wouldn’t be so impatient otherwise. Well, if he is to be honest with himself, he’d be impatient regardless of the scenario, but he can pretend. Kimishita actually laughs at a time like this.

“The best part of this is that I know you’re waiting for directions even though you’re the most impatient person in this entire fuckin’ universe,” Kimishita says in between gentle laughs, but his tone changes in a split second. “One finger, and  _ slowly _ .” Ooshiba exhales forcefully and bends forward, his whole body tense with anticipation. He’s not as loud as Kimishita is in bed, not by a long shot, but he knows Kimishita is attuned to his breathy sounds. There’s a small hitch in his breathing when he slides his finger in to the first knuckle and lets his body adjust before pushing in further.

“This is so much better when it’s you, Atsushi,” Ooshiba admits, arching his back to reach a little better. He imagines Kimishita behind him, rubbing his thigh, and he closes his eyes. There’s a brief pause on Kimishita’s end.

“It’ll be me soon enough,” he responds shakily. “Tell me how you feel.”

“Feels good imagining you,” Ooshiba breathes out. He’s thrusting in and out slowly, just enjoying Kimishita’s ragged breaths in his ear. If he had a greater presence of mind, he’d smirk, but he’s much too lost in this fantasy already.

“Ready for a second?”

“Fuck yes,” is Ooshiba’s immediate reply, and the quiet moan that follows is one of relief. He feels bowstring-taut, wound tightly enough to snap, and he needs more, and soon. 

“Just imagine me squeezing your ass while I finger you. I know you like that.”

“Ah-” Ooshiba does and he can almost feel the heat of Kimishita’s body, the heat of his hands pressing into his skin. He’s panting now, pushing back against his two fingers in search of more.

“You ready for more?” Kimishita asks, barely stringing the words together, it seems, and Ooshiba can relate. He grunts out what he hopes sounds like assent.

Kimishita takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Curl your fingers for me first, okay?” 

“Lemme just-” is all that Ooshiba offers in explanation as he withdraws his fingers with a soft whimper and readjusts himself. “Okay, I’m-” His words are partly muffled by a pillow, but he can’t finish the sentence anyway. He grazes over his prostate and moans, feeling his legs start to tremble. 

“Fuck,” Kimishita swears.

“I want you here,” Ooshiba pants. He is only peripherally aware of the phone sitting by his face as he chases completion with each insistent rub of his fingers.

“I wanna be there-” Kimishita sounds as desperate as Ooshiba feels.

“Can I- I need more-” Ooshiba can’t trust his voice anymore when Kimishita replies.

“Yeah- yeah, I know you’re close, babe.” 

Ooshiba exhales roughly at the pet name. He fought it for so long, refusing to admit that it  _ did things _ to him, made his stomach squirm. It affects him no less now, three fingers deep in himself with sweat trickling down his spine. Ooshiba moans into the receiver, knowing full well that he can’t hang on for much longer, even though he hasn’t even thought of touching his dick yet.

“Atsushi-  _ Atsushi _ -” Kimishita’s name comes spilling out of Ooshiba’s mouth, breathy and dripping with need. His breathing is completely ragged, and he’s fighting his body, holding back until Kimishita tells him he can come.

“You ready, Kiichi?” Kimishita asks, breathing heavily.

“Yes,  _ fuck yes _ .” Every muscle in Ooshiba’s body tenses, wound tightly, so  _ ready _ .

“Then come for me.”

Ooshiba does, and with a long, drawn out groan. All of the tension leaves his body at once and he collapses onto the mattress, trembling. His stomach twists when he hears Kimishita’s loud moan, and then they both lapse into exhausted silence while their breathing slows.

Allowing himself this one sentiment, Ooshiba whispers, “I miss you so much.” It’s easier to blame the emotions of the afterglow for his sappiness. He lays on his side, playing with the corner of a pillowcase as the endorphins fade and loneliness returns. Kimishita heaves a heavy sigh on the other end. 

“I miss you too, Kiichi. Eight days, though. We’re almost there,” he says quietly.

“It’s been so  _ long _ . Just transfer to my team already,” Ooshiba whines.

“You transfer to my team, jerk.”

“Nnn. My apartment is better than yours.”

“It looks like a child decorated it,” Kimishita retorts.

Ooshiba snorts. “I’m not even gonna start on yours. It’s fucking terrible.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Don’t mind, though,” says Ooshiba softly, voice fond.

“Oh?”

“It reminds me of you.” Ooshiba smiles at Kimishita’s tiny, choked sound. “Just eight days.”

“Yeah. Just eight.” Kimishita sighs. “Go clean up, you’re so gross.”

“You’re grosser.”

“Shut up,” Kimishita says, affection audible in his voice, and Ooshiba’s heart swells. “Night, Kiichi.”

“Night,” Ooshiba says, though it sounds a little more like  _ I love you _ . 

 

Ooshiba misses stupid Kimishita and his stupid face, but he can manage another eight days. After all, the distance between them is only physical.


	4. can't we stay in bed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: morning-after regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a direct continuation of the previous fill. i refuse to write angst with these two dweebs...so have some hilarity instead.

Kimishita wakes up first, as per usual, and takes a moment to peek at Ooshiba, who is sprawled out across the covers like the dork that he is. Despite the fact that his alarm has been going off for fifteen minutes, Ooshiba doesn’t stir, and Kimishita is relegated to finding his damn phone and turning it off. The grating sound of the alarm did nothing to wake Ooshiba, but Kimishita’s weight shifting does it. Ooshiba’s arm flies out to grab Kimishita around the waist and yank him in. Kimishita yelps, laughing when Ooshiba curls around him and nuzzles the back of his neck.

“You know you have practice, right?” he asks, twining his fingers with Ooshiba’s.

“Fuck practice,” Ooshiba mumbles, and his breath on Kimishita’s neck makes him shiver.

“It’s your job, dumbass. You have to go.”

“But you’re here,” he whines. Kimishita lifts their clasped hands and kisses Ooshiba’s knuckles one by one.

“I’ll still be here after practice.” Kimishita extracts himself from Ooshiba’s grip with a lot of difficulty, then starts to shove him out of the bed. He whines the whole way, but swears loudly when he gets to his feet.

“You okay?” Kimishita asks, brow furrowing in concern.

“My ass  _ hurts _ .” Ooshiba throws a pillow at Kimishita’s face when he starts laughing.

“I  _ told  _ you it was a bad idea, but  _ you _ were the one that wanted it harder. Your fucking fault, Kiichi!”

“How is that my fault?!”

“I was trying to go easy on you, but you kept telling me to,  _ and I quote _  ‘fuck me like you fucking promised, you asshole!’” Kimishita crosses his arms and his mouth slants into a frown.

“I missed getting railed! Is that so hard to understand?” Ooshiba says, gesturing wildly while still very naked. Kimishita bursts into snorting laughter.

“You are such a dumbass. Come here.” Kimishita crawls over the bed to Ooshiba and kisses him soundly. “I’m sorry.”

“It was _so good_ , though,” Ooshiba says against Kimishita’s lips.

“Yeah, and you can return the favour tonight.”

“Good.”

“Now go get ready.”

Ooshiba grumbles irritably as he roots through his closet for practice clothes, then waddles into the bathroom. Kimishita tries his best not to snort at how gingerly Ooshiba sits down on the bed once he’s dressed, but it’s difficult. He drapes over Ooshiba’s back and wraps his arms around his neck.

“Do you regret your decisions now, Kiichi?” he asks, chuckling softly.

“I only regret not being able to walk,” Ooshiba answers.

“You’re going to have to run in a bit.”

“ _ Fuuuuuuck _ .”


	5. in which they become parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: kimishita in their living room with the adoption papers

After years of struggling through endless paperwork and waiting, Kimishita isn’t really sure this is real. He sits in the middle of the living room floor, a small stack of papers trembling in his hands. 

 

_ She gets to finally come home. _

 

It’s all that Kimishita can do to stop himself from running around the house just to expend his excited energy; he would have called Ooshiba already to share this excitement, but he wants it to be a surprise. He falls back onto the floor and covers his face with the adoption papers in a bid to calm himself, but it doesn’t seem to work. Kimishita is just going to have to wait another hour or so for Ooshiba to get home and then they can celebrate together. He bites his lip just thinking about Ooshiba’s reaction, how ecstatic he’ll be to find out that he gets to be a giant, ridiculous,  _ wonderful _  parent. They both do. They get to raise a sweet little girl together, and there is absolutely no doubt in Kimishita’s mind that Ooshiba will spoil her rotten. Kimishita resigns himself, albeit fondly, to being the “strict” parent despite the fact he is probably weaker to her smile than he cares to admit. 

 

Kimishita can almost feel how lively their house is going to be, strewn with little toys and the tiniest clothes he can imagine. He and Ooshiba can actually buy all those adorable clothes still open in countless tabs on Ooshiba’s laptop, including sensible fluorescent dresses and a jersey kit because they all have to match, of course. A giddy laugh bubbles up his throat and he  _ needs  _ Ooshiba to get here already so he can jump into his arms and tell him that their lives get to change in the best possible way.

 

The hands on the clock move more slowly than Kimishita ever remembers them moving, so he checks whether the stupid thing is even working—much to his dismay, it is. He’s so focused on cursing the thing’s existence that he  _ almost  _ misses the front door opening.

 

“I’m home!” Ooshiba’s voice echoes, sending Kimishita’s heart into a frenzy. Grabbing a pen on his way, he scoops up the papers and sprints to the door. He barely has time to welcome Ooshiba back home before he leaps into his arms and kisses him. The papers crinkle behind Ooshiba’s neck as Kimishita pulls back, grinning at Ooshiba’s puzzled blinking.

 

“I mean, I know you like me, but—” he starts, obviously amused as he lowers Kimishita to the ground.

 

“Kiichi, we got them—the papers— _ Kiichi _ —” Kimishita’s voice breaks and he shoves the papers and pen at Ooshiba’s chest in lieu of an explanation. 

 

“What pa— _ oh _ .” Ooshiba looks at Kimishita, eyes wide as the biggest smile Kimishita has ever seen spreads across his face.

 

“We get to be dads!”

 

Ooshiba laughs, picking Kimishita up again and burying his face in his neck. “I can’t wait for you to still be the shortest member of our family,” he mumbles, tilting his head back so he can kiss Kimishita’s nose. Kimishita smacks him.

 

“Not for another few years at least, you giant,” he replies, letting Ooshiba lower him back down. “Now, comeoncomeoncomeon, get out of your shoes and come sign this with me!”

 

“You haven’t signed it yet?” Ooshiba asks, stumbling out of his shoes and nearly toppling Kimishita over when they skid to a stop in front of the nearest horizontal surface. Kimishita nudges Ooshiba’s shoulder with his head.

 

“I wanted to do it together, you dork.” Kimishita smiles softly at Ooshiba and offers him the pen. His heart feels so  _ full _ .

 

Once their names are on the page, Ooshiba takes Kimishita into his arms and kisses the top of his head. Kimishita curls into him and grips his waist, still grinning. They get to be  _ dads _ .


	6. two can play at this game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: kimishita lined up for his yoga class wearing his new headband
> 
> i laughed my way through this entire fill tbh

One of the perks of moving to this new neighbourhood, Ooshiba thinks, is the fact that his local gym has ridiculous amenities. He is a bit traditional in that he hangs around in the free weight room doing standard workouts, only taking small breaks to get water and rest. Despite his very simple routine, it’s nice to know that there is a sauna, a room full of exercise machines, and among other things, a yoga studio. He doesn’t have much interest in yoga because he is about as flexible as a plank of wood and about as motivated. What Ooshiba soon learns, however, is that Wednesday night yoga classes are often very full and all the—whatever yoga-doers are called—tend to show up early and line up to get a spot. A creature of habit, Ooshiba shows up at the same time every night for his workout and casually walks by the yoga studio that is not at all on the long way to the weight room. Ooshiba justifies this walk as part of his cardio. He needs it, after all. 

 

There is nothing that interests Ooshiba about yoga. Absolutely nothing.

 

Especially not the guy that always shows up extra early and claims the first spot in line.

 

After a few weeks of very casually walking by and being not at all suspicious in any way, shape or form, Ooshiba catches the guy watching him out of the corner of his eye. Ooshiba turns, smiling brightly as his gaze catches the obnoxiously patterned yoga mat under the guy’s arm. It’s a pretty good arm, Ooshiba notices, but not as big as his. He still flexes as he walks away, though. Just to be sure. 

The following week, the guy has his stupid long hair in a loose ponytail, and Ooshiba is, frankly, offended. He is angry at how nice this guy looks when he’s obviously not trying. Ooshiba frowns at him while the guy is tapping away on his phone; the least he could do is notice Ooshiba being angry at him. Rude.  

 

Wednesday rolls around again, and this week, Ooshiba really resents whoever invented yoga pants. This stupid guy is wearing very,  _ very _ tight yoga pants that make it very,  _ very _ obvious that he has muscular thighs from something that is not yoga. Ooshiba only feels a little bit of guilt when he follows the line of the guy’s leg and just  _ makes sure _ that his butt matches his legs. It’s fine. It does. Ooshiba chokes on his water and waves feebly when the guy turns to look at him. The guy does a little wave back which Ooshiba considers a victory even as he continues to cough up water.

 

As though the heavens are conspiring against him, Ooshiba passes by the yoga studio the following week to find the guy in the yoga pants—it took Ooshiba three days to recover from those— _ and  _ a fitted, sleeveless shirt. No. Ooshiba will not stand for this. Making sure to not take a drink of water while he is walking by lest he introduce water into his lungs again, he frowns at the back of the guy’s head. The guy turns around and smiles at him lopsidedly, and Ooshiba doesn’t need water this time; he just chokes on air, apparently. Ooshiba stalks away, red in the face, trying not to smile at the guy’s soft laughter.

 

The next week, Ooshiba is ready. He is wearing his Absolute Best gym outfit, which had been out of commission due to Ooshiba’s reluctance to actually do laundry. Ooshiba considers that the wasted hour of his life was worth having such impressive clothes with which he can seduce stupid, handsome yoga guy. He struts around the corner, pleased with himself, but stops dead before he can  _ really _ show yoga guy how attractive he is. Yoga guy has probably noticed, because he has eyes, but this is Ooshiba’s  _ best _ outfit, and yoga guy has just upstaged him again! This infuriatingly good looking, yoga-attending bastard is wearing  _ shorts _ , and not just any shorts, no. They are very short, and draw all attention to his ass. Ooshiba is so distracted that he almost misses the garishly fluorescent headband in the guy’s stupid, shiny brown hair. He is caught in an eternal loop of staring between the headband and the guy’s butt—

 

“Hi,” someone says, and it takes Ooshiba a moment to process that it’s yoga guy. Talking to him. In a nice and surprisingly deep voice. Ooshiba tilts his head, and the guy raises an eyebrow.

 

“Oh. I—I like your headband.” 

 

The guy chuckles softly and Ooshiba might be falling in love. “Thanks, it’s new. I’m Kimishita Atsushi, by the way.”

 

“Ooshiba Kiichi.”

 

“So, Ooshiba, do you wanna get coffee after?”


End file.
